Fortune Smiles
by xsuperboy
Summary: Someone is stalking the the path of time, hellbent on ending the life of Usagi Tsukino in the past before she ascend to her destiny as Neo-Queen. And he will succeed, unless three forgotten senshi can stop the madness...
1.

A Sailor Moon story by X-Superboy.

e-mail: lexusdreamz@aol.com

Note: This story jumps around a lot, but let's just say that it takes place a year after Stars...

Fortune Smiles.

Prologue

He glanced at his watch quickly. Not out of curiosity for the time, but rather for how long it had been since the last flash. Five minutes. Okay, that was a good thing. Maybe he could make it to the train station platform before the next one. His freshly shined shoes clacked on the concrete stairs, and he felt his shirt becoming untucked. He hastily shoved the bottom of it into his slacks, and deposited a token into the turnstile. He started a light run, feeling the familiar ringing in his ears. That was a sure sign another flash was coming. Come on, let me just get to the platform. I just want this to end. On his left, a shabbily dressed young girl played a guitar, slowly singing a song from years before her time. The ringing became louder. Here it comes, he thought, defeated.

In another time, on another Earth, this girl never took that first puff. In that reality, she heeded her mother's words, and had the courage to resist what her friends thought was cool. She went on to graduate with honors. She never got kicked out of her house, never sold her body for that next hit. In that reality, she had gone left instead of right. And it had made all the difference.

He flinched, coming out of his daze. The girl finished her song. She looked up at him, her eyes tired and bloodshot. She managed a weak smile. His heart went out to her. He reached into his pocket, and handed her two hundred yen. It was the least he could do. Or so he thought.

End Prologue.


	2. 

A great disturbance in the force, she recalled the line from a movie grimly. It fit nicely. It had hit her like a fist. She was connected to this particular force by the deepest bond imaginable. She set down her coffee, and motioned to the young waitress. She responded with a nod and a forced smile. The woman that was seated sighed, and propped her elbows onto the table, resting her chin on her hands. It was her own fault, really. She had neglected her duties as the Keeper of the Gates, and this is what she got for it. Whatever it was, it promised to be a problem for her. She was about to motion to the waitress once again when a hand whizzed in front of her, dropping a slim sheet of paper onto the table. A bright voice had apologized and thanked her at the same time.

She rose, and got out of the booth. She quickly smoothed out her beige skirt and straightened her jacket. Glancing at the check, she reached into her purse without looking, knowing instinctively what she had inside it. She had been rather generous with the tip, but she had more pressing matters than money at the moment. She paid at the counter, the man at the register engrossed in the latest issue of his favorite magazine. He was slow in counting her change, sneaking in a sentence as he dug into the drawer. She snatched the bills from his hand rudely. The man at the cash register hadn't even seen her reach for it; by the time he looked up to thank her, all he had seen was the ends of her dark green hair rushing behind her out the door.

She emerged outside. The sky above was ominously cloudy, threatening the people below with the promise of a storm. Two old men sat at a table in front of the diner, playing a silent game of chess, and occasionally commenting on the state of the world today. There was really no time to waste, she chided herself ironically, gazing above her. The roof of the diner would have to do. She marched up the block, and into a nearby alley. It smelled faintly of rotting fruit, but she after everything she had seen in her life, she had learned to ignore the things that would quickly deter a normal person out of sheer discomfort. After a cursory look around, she hopped effortlessly upwards. 

She landed silently onto the tar. Below her, the small section of the city she frequented buzzed with activity. She had happened upon it during an outing with Chibi-usa, while searching for a present for the girl's mother. She enjoyed the simplicity of the area. The vintage shops, art stores, and interesting people that were immersed in their own little worlds. 

The wind blew her dark green hair behind her, and she reached into nothingness, and procured a golden wand, crowned with a sphere.

"Pluto Crystal Power...Make-Up," she said carefully, raising the wand above her head. She was engulfed in a funnel of purple light, and when it subsided, she was dressed in a white blouse with a black bow on the front, and a matching black skirt. She held a silver staff pensively in her gloved hand. This feeling was getting worse. She wasn't looking forward to this in the least. If she was lucky, it was simply a small glitch somewhere across the time stream. Something that could be easily remedied. But by the way she was feeling, she knew it was anything but simple. She tapped the butt of her staff on the ground once, and vanished, leaving only the imprint of her boots on the slightly wet tar.

*****************************************************

It shouldn't be this cold. That was the first thought that came to Sailor Pluto's mind as she materialized in her domain. She knew every nuance of this place, and even the slightest change never escaped her attention. She closed her eyes and began her search. She vaguely recalled trying to explain to a young Hotaru what it was like to have to examine the infinite stream of time itself. Every event, big or small. She had thought about it for a moment.

"I don't really scrutinize every path of the stream itself. It's not really possible," she explained. "It's more like I send bits and pieces of myself out throughout it. My power is what travels through the stream. And then it shoots back. If there's a disruption, I know exactly where it is, and it's my job to handle it." But it was a very different situation this time. She hadn't even had to search. The disturbance was that obvious.

With a single thought, she appeared on a suburban street. She immediately recognized it. The sun blazed down hard, and the sound of lawnmowers roaring and birds chirping could be heard all around her. The crisp smell of summer was all around her. She turned around, and stared at the house before her. The paint job was different, but other than that, there was no doubt about it. One of the her closest companions lived here.

A high pitched bell broke the neighborhood silence. She whisked to her left, and saw a child speeding toward her on a bicycle. She must have been about ten years old, with blond hair tied into twin ponytails that streamed behind her. Her eyes were bright and excited, full of life. Pluto smiled slightly, stepping to the side. It was Usagi. 

She whizzed past her, taking no notice of the dark skinned woman that watched her go by. Pluto had long since made it a habit to cloak herself from human eyes while journeying into the past. She more than anyone understood the frailty of the force that she guarded. The smallest interaction led to the smallest change, which led to a big paradox, her worst fear. She looked around, trying to sense any threatening impressions. She was getting nothing. The young girl had gotten off her bike, and was now sitting in front of her house, devouring a bag of chips. Children don't really change that much with age it seems, Pluto thought fondly.

Suddenly, she felt a tremendous flare of energy. It happened in the span of a second. She sensed it coming from above, and leapt in front of the child. She caught the blast in the orb at the top of her staff, but just barely. It coursed through, into her hands, then arms, and soon her entire felt like it was on fire. The feeling passed quickly. She breathed hard, glaring up at the man that stood on the end of the lamppost above her. His arms were folded across his chest, and his expression was one of annoyance. For a moment, they merely sized each-other up. This man certainly didn't seem intimidating. He stood about four and a half feet tall, and had a rather husky build. He wore a simple gray suit, with a pair of strange triangular glasses and a wide brimmed tophat. A poor man's Tuxedo Mask, she thought, and held back a laugh.

He stepped off, landing shakily onto the street.

"Sailor Pluto, I presume?" he spoke politely, placing his hands behind his back. She said nothing, but merely spun her staff once, holding it forward threateningly. Whatever he had meant to hit the child with, it had felt like temporal energy, but she knew that wasn't the case. If it had been, she would have merely absorbed it without batting an eye. Her opponent wielded something similar to time magic, but different enough so that she was caught off guard. "Please step away from that child. In seven seconds, her mother will call her inside, and I'd rather not do this in front of her."

"Who are you?" she asked calmly, tensing up. She had no intention whatsoever of letting this man hurt her.

"My name is Chance. She is Usagi Tsukino," he said, pointing at the girl. "In about four years, she'll become Sailor Moon; one of your associates, I believe. And after that, she'll become Neo-Queen Serenity. I simply can't let that happen." Pluto's eyes widened. How did he know all this? How did he manage to travel through time without her knowing?

"Usagi! Time to come in!" a stern voice from behind her called out. The little girl wiped her face with her sleeve, and threw the empty bag into the garbage pail on her way inside. The man called Chance scowled.

"Damn. It seems that I won't get any work done with you around, Miss Meioh," he growled. He knew her name. Each word he uttered made her more fearful. She had to get him out of the past before he did something drastic. There was no telling what his mental state was, but if he had the fortitude to harm an innocent child, she could only assume that he was indeed unhinged. With a sharp upward gesture of her hand, they both disappeared.

*****************************************************

"So you're wondering how I managed to slip past your guard, and travel back through time?" Chance asked, readjusting his glasses. He didn't seem to notice that they were no longer in the past, but rather somewhere in the Death Valley region of North America, present time. The sun was just beginning to set, and the desert chill crept around the two of them. "Let me get comfortable and explain..." He looked around, and snapped his fingers. Pluto felt her stomach drop, and a wave of nausea hit her. She slumped onto the sand, dropping her staff softly. She thought he might have laughed a bit, but her ears were ringing too loud for her to be sure. All she knew was that he was sitting on a rock that hadn't been there before.

"I was born with a power. A strange power. I first learned about it when I was five. I had a goldfish named Finny. This was a great fish. I can remember just sitting there for hours watching him swim around his little castle, looking at me from inside. One weekend, my dad decided to take me camping. I specifically remember telling my mother not to forget to feed my fish," he told the story casually, as if relaying it over the dinner table. "When I got back that Sunday, I found the glass bowl where Finny lived empty. Naturally, I was quite upset. My mom explained that it had accidentally slipped her mind to feed the fish. My mom was never really quite right in the head, you understand. It was sad, really. My dad tried to comfort me, saying that death was a part of life and all that nonsense. That's when I had my first flash."

"I knew that Finny was dead on this particular Earth. But it was then I realized that this wasn't the only Earth that existed. On some other Earth, in some other dimension, my fish was alive. My mother hadn't forgotten to feed him. There was even an Earth where my mother was completely right in the head. Of course, all I knew at that point was that somewhere Finny was still swimming happily, and he wasn't here with me. Naturally, I was quite upset." Chance paused to regard Pluto, who by then had made it to her feet once again, and stared at him with an absolutely blank expression. He tilted his head, curious if she was still listening. He went on anyway.

"As I got older, these flashes came more and more frequently. They began to happen everywhere I went. Everything and everyone I saw showed nothing but possibilities. It took its toll me. All I wanted was peace from the endless question." The look on his round face became more thoughtful and sad.

"And what question was that?" Pluto asked coldly. He managed a weak smile.

"What if?" He stood up, and cracked his neck awkwardly. "I decided to throw myself in front of a train. It seemed like a good way to die. Rather tragic and romantic, like Anna Corrinina. It was then that I met..." he paused, and looked into the senshi's eyes. "I was saved. I was given a new purpose, and a new power. Not only can I see the endless possibilities of everything around me, I can reach into any one road, and make it a reality. Take this rock for instance..." Chance indicated the large stone behind him. "This has no business being here. But somewhere in the endless realm of 'what if', all the environmental factors needed to create a rock converged in this one spot. All I have to do is make 'if' into 'is'." Pluto's mouth went dry at this revelation.

"I did the same thing to you. While you were sleeping this morning, I happened to make it so that there was a small chemical glitch in your brain while I snuck into the Time Realm. That glitch kept you from realizing that there was someone invading your territory," he explained proudly.

"But you are doing irrevocable damage!" Pluto screamed despite herself. "Time was not meant to be toyed with so impudently."

"Oh c'mon, Pluto. I think we both know the reason why you're so scared of my power. You share a bond with Time itself. And, like you said, every time I use my power, time is stretched and torn apart to fulfill my wishes. If I use this gift enough, eventually ... you'll die." He smiled broadly. Pluto's eyes narrowed, and she assumed a fighting stance.

"What do you want with Usagi Tsukino?" Chance smiled once again, dripping with malice.

"I'll never tell. Though we certainly can't have you prancing about, bothering our plans," he said, a tightly wound ball of green energy appearing in his hand. He pitched it up once, causing Pluto to wince a bit.

"Dead Scream," she whispered. She whipped around, and flung a ringed sphere of purple energy toward him. She didn't expect to do much damage, but the attack actually send him careening backwards.

"That hurt..." he spat, getting up clumsily, and dusting the sand off his suit. He glowered at her like a hurt child, and bit his lip. He's readying his attack, she deducted by the flare of energy she felt coming from his direction. He needed to concentrate to use it. She wasn't going to allow him that opportunity. She bolted forward, hurling another Dead Scream at him. He was prepared this time, throwing himself to the side with a yelp. 

She was on him before he had fully rose. A whirling blow to the head with her staff introduced him to a whole new kind of pain, and a connecting low kick robbed him of the ground below. His nose and the orb of her rod were now intimate.

"A blast of temporal energy at point blank range..." she seethed. "...would most likely scatter your skull across three millennia." Her threat was rewarded with a whimper.

"Please don't..." he stammered.

"Once again...what do you want with Usagi Tsukino?"

"I can't ..."

"Dead..." she murmured. A rush of temporal power blazed around her. Chance screamed, and his eyes shot closed. 

Pain flashed in her chest. Unbearable, white hot pain. The spell she had been preparing abruptly fizzled, and she collapsed. The red sky stared down at her. Her body pulsed with agony.

"It's not as easy to be threatening while your heart is failing, is it?" he asked, standing up wearily. She tried to speak, but her voice was nothing more than a gurgle. "Don't speak. Let me enlighten you."

"Since my opportunity to kill Sailor Moon as a child has failed, I'll have to strike at her at a later time. I have so many opportunities," Chance snarled, inches away from her face. His voice was a whisper. "And when she's dead...the future will be open..." Pluto's vision began to blur. Her end was near. There only fear in her heart concerned the girl who's destiny was pivotal to mankind. She had one option left. And the pain she felt was nothing to the guilt that plagued her in her last moments. Her tiara melted away slowly, and the sigil of Pluto wavered on her forehead with a soft purple light.

The Garnet Orb at her side hummed, detaching itself from her staff. It floated upwards, hovering for a moment, as if unsure to leave its master. It was imbued with a mission. It flashed once, and vanished. Chance watched the process intently.

"Looks like old reliable's moving on to greener prospects," he giggled. Her world started to blacken, as she felt her heart slowing. The world become darker. Her heart slowed. The sigil faded. But she was not afraid.


	3. 

Her eyes shot open, and she groggily rolled her head to the side. It was ten thousand o'clock. No, that wasn't right. She blinked once, and squinted. Ten o'clock. That also wasn't right. Or at least she hoped as she hurled herself out of bed with a curse. Her sheets had snaked around her ankle as she stumbled to the bathroom.

She caught her reflection in the dingy mirror before her. Her hair was a ruin of auburn on top of her head. There was heavy pink eyeliner smeared messily around her eyes. They themselves were bloodshot. I look like a battered wife, she thought bitterly. Alcohol sucks, she repeated. It had become her catch-phrase during a hangover.

The water beat down on her aching muscles, and she narrowly escaped falling over in complete bliss. It was already third period at school. She had missed math class for a third time. There was a slim chance she might have gotten away with it, but odds were she was in for another in-school suspension. Why did she always get sucked into a party on a school night? Although, she remembered, it had been worth it. Adam had asked her out. She had a boyfriend today.

"Ariana!" a voice from behind the door smashed her back into reality.

"What?!" she hollered back.

"What are you doing home?"

"I overslept." she muttered. She was met with a barrage of swearing and put-downs. Thankfully, the water drowned most of them out. She missed her mother. The ranting beast outside the bathroom door wasn't her. It was product of too many pills and too many bad feelings. She recalled the days, before her father died, when her mother was her best friend. There was nothing they didn't or wouldn't talk about. She was her mother's "kitten", as she used to call her. Ariana used to hate that. Now, there was nothing on earth she wouldn't give to hear her call her that one more time.

After slamming her bedroom door in her mother's face, she quickly slithered into a pair of faded blue jeans. She threw on a pink tee shirt that exposed her midriff, and slipped on a pair of matching sneakers. It was cold in New York today, and her hair was still wet. Hopefully she could put it up before it frizzed. Grabbing her bag, she made her escape out her window, when she noticed a strange looking object floating just outside her room. It's ruby center gleamed for a moment, as if to greet her, and she was engulfed in a wave of light.

*****************************************************

"That'll be all for today," the older gentleman hopped off his desk, and clapped his hands. "Be sure to read the next five chapters. Your thesis papers on pre-adolescent psychological disorders are due on Thursday, and don't be shocked if a test pops up on Friday. Good day." He bid them farewell, and the lecture hall quickly emptied, save for a few students who approached the professor with their questions.

The last student left made the professor hold his breath. She stood five foot seven, with icy blue eyes behind sophisticated glasses, and short strawberry blond hair. Her expression was blank, save for a faint flicker of polite respect.

"Hello, Professor Galington. I was just curious to know if it was necessary to site specific cases in our papers, and if so, is there a specific source you could recommend? Books, or perhaps a website?" she asked coolly. The professor scratched his silver beard absently, as he always did when he was nervous.

"Yes ... Ms.Paltrow, correct?" he said with surprising confidence.

"Morgan, please," she dismissed his confidence with a casual tuck of her hair behind her ear, and a look at him with those diamond eyes.

"Wha...what disorder are you writing about?" he stammered a bit. He prayed to seven different gods that she didn't notice.

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder." She smirked.

"I recommend Doctor Thomas Firler. He's written a few books on childhood OCD. Causes and impact in adult life and such," he rambled. She didn't seem to notice, and she fervently jotted down the name in a tiny notebook that was suddenly in her hand. She bit her bottom lip, and Galington almost fell backwards. A single tendril of hair fell over her face, but she hardly noticed. She stared up at him, curiousity shining. Her mouth moved smoothly, like rosy liquid.

"Professor?"

"Hmm?" he snapped back into reality.

"I said how do you spell Firler?" she asked for the second time, apparently. A heart attack was his only wish at that moment as he embarrassedly answered. She tucked away the notepad into her bag, and shook his hand politely. Her hand was soft, but her grip was as strong and secure as her demeanor. She turned, and walked up the steps, out the rear door. He let out a grateful sigh, and rubbed his temples. This was the type of thing that happened to the younger teachers; the ones who barely out of graduate school. Not to fifteen year veterans with grandchildren. He rubbed his temples, and slumped into his chair. A pile of papers in front of him begged to be graded, and he obliged. It would help to take his mind off her for awhile.

He wouldn't have to worry anymore. All that was left of her presence was a small notebook, its scribbled pages fluttering in the wind.

*****************************************************

"Is Deja there, please?" A deep voice on the other end of the receiver asked politely.

"Yeah. Who this?" she answered hesitantly.

"Montell." Deja scrunched up her face.

"Who?"

"Montell. I met you at the club last Saturday," the boy declared, sounding almost offended that anyone could forget him.

"Oh yeah. What's up?" she relaxed a bit. She did remember him. He was cool; he was a little too confident in his game, but they had danced and talked, and hit it off nicely.

"Nothing, just chillin'. How you doin' tonight?"

"Chillin'. I just got my daughter to sleep, and I'm about to paint my toenails," she said, holding the phone under her chain while she put her tight braids into a quick ponytail.

"Oh yeah, you got a daughter. What's her name again?"

"Nikia Diamond," Deja said with a smile. It was impossible for her to talk about her one-year-old without an obvious tone of pride. Her baby was her life. She was only seventeen when she had her, but she had put the stereotypes of a young teenage mother within the first week. Her child was her first priority. Her mother and aunt took care of the little one when she needed to go to work, school, and occasionally when she just needed a break. 

"So what you doin' tonight?" Montell asked, disappointed that the conversion wasn't going as well as it had the previous Saturday.

"Nothin', I'm staying in," she answered, getting bored. It was becoming quite clear that all this guy wanted was to get her out.

"Why? It's Friday night. How can you stay home on a Friday night?"

"Easily, man. There ain't nothin' to do," she said, the hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She finished putting a piece of a cotton in the last space between the toes on her left foot.

"Aight, shit; why you getting stank?" Montell shot back.

"What?!" Deja almost screamed. "No, nigga, you do not call my house and then try to break fly with me. Peace," She hung up the phone without batting an eye. Cursing under her breath, she looked around her bed for the nail polish she had just set down. It frustrated her that she couldn't find someone real where she lived. Most of them had watched too much MTV, and thought they could get away with treating girls like trash because they had a piece of platinum around their neck. She found herself calling at least one boy every day on that, frequently having to be physically restrained because she had let her frustrations get the better of her. All she wanted was George, Nikia's father and the only man she had ever loved. They had separated a month ago, and even though he was still in her life, the distance between them was killing her.

The phone rang again. Deja cursed again, and picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked, not bothering to cover up her aggravation.

"What's up?" a cool voice whispered, setting her immediately at ease.

"Hey baby," Deja smiled. "I was just thinking about you."

"Yeah?" George's voice was deep and comforting. "I miss you too." When he said things like that, it made Deja want to invite him over, and ravage him in the way she was sure only she could. She smiled, and opened her mouth to reply, when the feeling that she was not alone overwhelmed her. At the foot of her bed, it watched her with it's one red eye. She began a cry for her mother, but she vanished before it could the older woman's ears.

George waited for a response at the other end of the line. It never came.

*****************************************************

".......MAMAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" the girl screamed, the sound echoing throughout the world she now occupied. She was now sitting on emerald grass, her head still cocked slightly to the side, the slight space between her cheek and shoulder devoid of a telephone. She scrambled to her feet, terrified tears spilling down her brown cheeks. She spun around, and did so again, trying to make sense of what had transpired. Please let this be a dream, a coherent thought finally born in her mind. She surveyed this strange, new place; an endless meadow surrounding her. Nothing but grass and clear blue sky as far as the eye could see.

The girl called Deja looked up at the sky and screamed once more, out of pure confusion and fear. She began to walk in some direction, the grass wet and prickly on her bare feet. She cried some more, thoughts of her baby and her mother and George and everything she once knew blazing past her. Through blurry eyes, the sky and grass became one jumbled mass of liquid color, with a single hazy dot in the center. She gasped, wiping her eyes with her knuckle, and looked once again. A figure could be seen in the distance, walking slowly away from her. 

"HEY!!" Deja screamed, her voice stinging from strain in her throat. The figure paused and turned. Then it began to run towards her. Deja ran as well, and the figure quickly became a brunette that looked to be about her age. When the two met each-other, they embraced desperately, sobbing with relief.

"Please tell me you know what's going on?" the white girl asked after they had both composed themselves somewhat.

"I don't know," Deja answered hopelessly, pulling away and staring back into the endless field. "I don't know."

"I was just about to step out of my room, when I saw this ..." the brunette cringed a bit before continuing. "...this thing...and then I was here. This can't be happening!" Deja saw that the girl was in worse shape than she was. In fact, she looked about two seconds away from losing it completely.

"Same thing happened to me," the dark skinned girl added softly. "Let's walk, alright? We'll find something." Deja gently pulled the girl's arm in the direction she had been walking. "What's your name?"

"Ariana," the brunette choked on her own name. Her walk was slow and feeble; she looked as though she was ready to collapse.

"I'm Deja." She seemed to be pulling the girl along now. "C'mon, you gotta walk." she chided softly. Ariana whimpered again, and her pace sped up a bit. 

They walked towards nothing for what seemed like hours. Their conversation was sporadic at best; Deja would ask the brunette questions about herself when it seemed like she was near unconsciousness.

"So where you from?"

"New ... York..."

"Ah, big NY in the house! I know some people there ... I'm from Atlanta."

"Someone's over there!" Ariana spoke up suddenly as they trudged on. Deja looked up to see what appeared to be someone sitting on top of a knoll ahead of them. They walked as fast as they could, desperateness and fear slowing their legs. They reached a blonde who sat with her knees tucked against her, staring blankly into the void.

"Hey!" Deja yelled loudly to snap the girl out of whatever she was in. The blonde blinked once, and turned to the two girls. A small smile curled around her mouth.

"I was beginning to think you guys would never show," she said.


End file.
